No Mortal Dared To Dream
by Tifereth Kantrishakrim
Summary: As a small child, Raphael found a mysterious mask on the very day that Robin of the Teen Titans died and Raven disappeared. Ten years later, when he stumbles upon the haunted Tower and the demon within, a dark and desperate tale unfolds...RobRae
1. Prologue: A Midnight Dreary

This is my very first AU story, with my very first OC! hugs Raph His name is Raphael, and…… I can't tell you any more. In this chapter, which is the prologue, Raph is about six years old, while the Titans are their "normal ages", or however old they are on the show. Thanks to Dusty for betaing this chapter, and for betaing all the ones that haven't been written yet. Enjoy!

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing,

Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before,

-- Edgar Allen Poe, _The Raven_

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Snow fell softly, suddenly, a flurry contained within a single breath, a storm of stars that had been torn from their lofty perches and now spiraled down to the dank earth like a swarm of autumn leaves, dislodged by the wind that snarled through the city streets and tore long gashes in the night with its icy claws. The dark, fathomless expanses of the bay that cradled the city in its sweeping shore lay tranquil and calm, undisturbed by the snowflakes that drifted down and floated on the surface in a fleeting half-life before disappearing. It gave the illusion that the world had twisted itself and become a mirror, water strewn with snowflake-stars reflecting the ice-studded sky that arched above.

Deep in the tangled labyrinth of the city streets, imprisoned by the steel-and-concrete monstrosities that loomed on all sides, a small figure trudged, head bowed, through the light glazing of snow and ice that clung to the tar-black alleyways beneath his feet despite the angry attempts of billowing exhaust and screeching tires to eliminate it.

Wrapped about by a baggy, threadworn coat, hands buried deep in pockets that stretched for untold depths, the small boy stumbled through the howling teeth of the winter storm, shuffling feet tracing bizarre patterns in the slush that rose to his ankles, a foul brew of oil and snow that threatened to drown the city. His shoulders hunched with the weary defeat of a beaten dog, mouth set in a thin line, he glared fiercely at the ground, allowing thick, dark hair to fall forward and mask the world from his view.

Something terrible had happened. He knew this, knew it with the naïve certainty of childhood, the irreversible conviction that held all of the wisdom gained in six bludgeoning years. The large, dark eyes that now stared hungrily at the ground as though trying to draw some virtue from the pavement were cold with certainty, wide with fright, yet at the same time narrowed in a mask of anger. He knew something was wrong; some inconceivable higher power, a looming, invisible god, had been made angry, and had seen fit to disrupt this child's world with the most terrible of signs. The trembling in his father's voice; the anger, the roaring rage, the huge calloused hands clenched into fists for the first time in the boy's young memory, the sudden ferocious snarling that faded into silence, blankness, tears. The kind, craggy face distorted first into a blaze of anger, then of agony; the mouth that had once opened to laugh and sing now uttering first thunders of hate, then blank empty words of comfort, the eyes first terribly alive, then hideously dead. Something had been taken from his father; and the boy, kicking at the ground in imitation of his rage, wanted nothing more than for that fleeting something to be retrieved.

He remembered his mother.

_She knelt in front of him, suitcase standing by her side, leaning against her as he himself had often done. Her face was close to his; the perfume she wore, the very embodiment of safety and home, was rising from her in gusts, until he began to grow light-headed from lack of air, her thick brown curls brushing his neck. "Raphael," she said softly, the use of his full name strange in her mouth, "Raphael, I want you to know that I love you. And none of what happened is your fault." _

_He stared at her, blankly, not understanding, noticing vaguely that she who had always loomed over him, overshadowed him, looked suddenly very small on her knees surrounded by the darkness of the world. A faint tremor of fear stirred in him as she took his hands, his tiny fists lost in her enveloping grip. A faint smile touched her lips, gleaming and bright with lipstick, and she released one of his hands long enough to brush the thick matted hair from his eyes, a familiar gesture that soothed him, reassured him. His father had been angry before, and his mother had been tearful, but everything was all right now; he was safe. _

_Then what was this strange, almost inaudible trembling in his mother's voice?_

_"Listen," she said anxiously, "some things have happened, and –" she cast a nervous look over her shoulder, at the dark doorway where his father had disappeared a moment before, that seemed to breath silence like some terrible beast. " – and I just want you to remember that I love you."_

_She remained on her knees for a moment more, looking down at him with tender compassion, then stood without another word, heaved her suitcase from the floor, and disappeared out into the winter gale, leaving behind only the creaking of the weather-beaten door as it swung silently closed._

_The crash of breaking glass from the next room almost, but not quite, managed to drown out the screeching of rubber on asphalt of a taxi cab screaming away._

He remembered the blank silence of that closed door, the image that seemed burned into his memory, thousands of questions emblazoned into the wood. He remembered staring at that door, blankly, for an eternity after it had swung shut, waiting for his mother to reappear and explain everything, make everything all right, laugh and tell him that it was all just a game, a joke, that the tears that filled his father's eyes were tears of laughter and nothing more – but she had remained gone, and the door had remained shut, stark, silent, unanswering.

_I don't understand._

He bowed his head in something close to shame as he accepted the thought, recognized it as the truth. He didn't like to not understand; the sense of confusion left a sour taste in his mouth, the feeling of being surrounded by shadows made him shiver. He did not like being made to feel small, stupid, insignificant, worthless; he was sure that if he could only understand, then all would be well and his father would stop crying, his mother would return and all would be right with the world. It was his stupidity that had caused this mess, his failure that had torn apart his entire world.

Desperate to escape the burning sense of shame that engulfed him, he raised his eyes from the street, gaze flicking desperately, hungrily, over the bright, blazing advertisements and storefronts that somehow seemed muted and dull in the snow that continued to fall. Letting his entire mind be absorbed by the bright colors, he stopped beside a vibrant movie poster, reaching out to small fingers to trace the bold letters as he slowly, laboriously spelled out the words.

His fragile concentration was shattered a moment later as a group of people, huddled closely together and conversing in hushed tones, rushed down the street, one of them knocking into him from behind, pitching him forward into the front of the building. Turning around to face his ambushers, little hands curled into fists, he managed to catch a glimpse of the woman who had jolted him, and was shocked to see tears tracing well-worn tracks down her face.

The simple sight sent his mind reeling, as he felt a coldness clench about his stomach. Grownups never cried – especially not stranger grownups. Crying was a thing that his friends did when they lost a toy, or that the people on TV did for reasons he could never understand. Crying was not something to be done in real life, by real people, in the open streets!

Watching as the group of people, many weeping openly, vanished into a nearby doorway, Raphael let his hands fall back to his sides, staring gloomily at the pavement again. He knew now for a fact that something terrible had befallen him, even though he did not understand what it was. The only sad thing he could think of was his mother leaving; that must have been what the woman was crying about, and if people he didn't even know were crying about his mother, than her leaving must have been terrible to make them so sad.

Losing himself once more in dreary memories, he hunched his shoulders, sinking deeper into the folds of the coat that hung loosely on his small frame, letting his feet carry him through the maze of city streets without any kind of destination. Absorbed by phantoms of the past and the glitter of moonlight on the new-fallen snow, he barely glanced at the people he passed, nearly all of whom were weeping. He took it as a matter of course that since he was sad, since he could feel the pressure of unshed tears rising inside him, everyone else could too. He was too young to understand that his world meant nothing to the multitude of strangers all around him, and that something more colossal and more terrible than his own personal tragedy had occurred.

Trudging along with his head hanging, he passed through the mouth of an alleyway that stretched between two buildings, and looked up, blinking, as eyes used to the street's darkness were suddenly flooded by a blaze of white moonlight that gleamed from the snow and metal all around, blinding him. Raising one small hand to shield his eyes, he peered around intently, and his mouth twitched into something vaguely resembling a smile.

He had emerged from the winding labyrinth of the city onto the broad banks of the bay, which lay glassy and calm before him, its ebony blue depths concealed by the moonlight that was reflected by the waters as by a mirror that captured and distilled it. Fascinated by the dancing ripples caused by the snowflakes on the surface, Raphael lifted his head, stepping carefully down to the shore, letting the frigid water lap about his feet. Looking up through the vapors he exhaled with every breath, he let his admiring gaze fall on the immense tower that stood, upright and looming, as a shining silhouette against the sky.

He had come unwittingly to his favorite haunt, the place where he came whenever he was troubled or disturbed; the wide expanse of the waters comforted him somehow, whether they were stormy, reflecting his own inner rages, or calm as a sea of brittle glass. The tower, eternally rearing up to lift its head proudly above the swirling waters, seemed to him to be a living thing, a guardian that kept watch always over the city, a protector against darkness, evil, and tears. It was this tower that, since his earliest days, he had spoken to, wept to, shouted at, asked questions of; and though it never answered, though it always remained stark and staring, its mere presence was comforting, soothing. The tower was a constant, indestructible, invincible, more faithful even than the moon, which sometimes disappeared; as long as the tower still stood, than nothing could be wrong.

Staring intently at the tower, his hungry eyes drinking in every aspect of its mighty form, Raphael drifted ever closer to the water's edge, as though pulled by a magnetic force towards the object of his gaze. The golden light that usually gleamed from the wide bank of windows at the tower's crown was gone, and he thought he could see a dark, gaping hole, as though the glass had been shattered by something plunging through, but he soon dismissed the strange signs as yet another thing he couldn't understand. The tower was still erect, and that meant everything was all right. There was nothing to worry about, nothing to hate, nothing to fear…….

Lulled by the soothing whisper and hiss of the waves that threw themselves onto the shore, and the rhythmic crunching of the snow beneath his own feet, he let his gaze drop to the beach, staring in fascination at a small pool, sheltered by rocks, where the water had frozen over. The snow and the sand made a strange combination, a warped design that changed every moment as the water washed the snow away only to have it fall anew; it was bizarre, but Raphael liked it for its strangeness.

His eyes roaming the curve of the beach as it encircled the bay, he lifted his foot to take another step forward – and frowned, as his ears were met with not the snap of snow being crunched beneath his boot, but the rustle of cloth. Glancing down, he saw that he had stepped on something small and black, grinding it into the frost. Stepping back, he stooped down to pick it up.

The thing, which had been lying unprotected perilously close to the rising tide, seemed at first glance to be merely a discarded scrap of black cloth fluttering in the wind. Curious, Raphael straightened it out, wondering why it was in such a peculiar shape, of what appeared to be two rounded ovals joined together in the middle. Then, running his fingers over the rough fabric, he discovered a hole cut in either side, and that what he had first taken for frost on the cloth was actually a pair of lenses, staring up at him with a dead, opaque, and lifeless gaze.

The thing was more than merely a scrap of cloth; it was a mask.

Scowling at the mask which had no place lying on the snow-covered midnight beach, he clenched it in one fist, thinking to drop it again; but as he held out his hand, dangling the mask over the ocean's hungry maw, his fingers encountered something wet and warm that stained the cloth's edges. Unable to overcome his curiosity, he transferred the mask to his other hand and examined his fingers, finding them covered in something red and sticky that he did not recognize. Letting his gaze drop to the ground, he realized that more of the red stuff had dyed the snow, and now was congealing in streams that ran sluggishly into the water, letting off a coppery scent that stung his nose and left the taste of rusting metal in his mouth. Grimacing at the foreboding sight, he stepped back, away from the red rivers, the mask still clenched instinctively in his hand; even though he was still looking at the ground, he could feel the dead gaze of those milky white lenses boring through his skin. He once again held the mask out over the water, but could not open his hand; finally, scowling at this new mystery, he stuffed the offending cloth into his pocket.

With one last glance at the tower that now seemed suddenly foreboding, he turned and plunged back into the maze of city streets, turning his back to the bay that had suddenly turned sinister rather than soothing. He could feel the mask burning, taunting him in his pocket; and though he reached in and wrapped his fingers around it, he could not bear to throw it aside.

So engrossed was he in the mental struggle with the mask that he darted right past the electronics store where he usually loitered to watch TV in the windows. Lost in thought, deaf and blind to the world around him, he hurried away, small shoulders squared as though marching off to war, not heeding the voice that droned from the speakers and followed him into the night;

"……..city continues to mourn. Robin, one of the five Teen Titans who have risked their lives to save this city on countless occasions, is now in critical condition in Jump City Hospital. He was propelled through the window of Titans Tower today, thrown by what witnesses describe as a 'bolt of black lightning', plummeting almost twenty stories. The coastguard, signaled by his fellow Titans, rushed to the scene, but whether our hero will recover is still unclear. Cyborg, Starfire, and Beast Boy, Robin's teammates, are with him at the hospital and were unavailable for comment. However, Raven – the fifth Titan, and the primary suspect regarding Robin's injuries -- seems to have disappeared……………"

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Dun dun dun! Review, please! Reviews get the next chapter written faster!


	2. Contamination of Insanity

This chapter takes place ten years after the previous one, so Raph is now sixteen. The purpose of this chapter is to try and get to know Raph a little bit, his friends, his situation, his love life, just a day in his life. I know it might be boring, but the stage-setting is necessary.

I'm sorry if this chapter offends anyone, but a very wise writer once told me to write about what I know. Therefore, Matt and Raph (Raph not so much) are based on the boys at my school, most of whom are perverted jerks. There is some bad language in this chapter, but I left out the dirty jokes that boys at my school are constantly making. I don't like hearing them, I don't like writing them, and I'm sure people won't appreciate reading them. That being said, I hope that no one is offended by this chapter, and if they are, to accept my apologies.

Oh, and many thanks to Dusty for being my beta. You rock!

Without any more ado, let's get on with the show!

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Darkness cloaked the room; the indigo and violet shadows of night slowly lifting away, to be replaced by the murky gray haze that preceded the dawn. The pale radiance of a streetlamp penetrated the window like a lance of moonlight, running questing fingers over the wood-paneled walls, gleaming off the curling posters that hung defeated in the corners, and the clock that ticked in pristine silence by the bed.

_Beep._

_Beep._

_Beep._

A lump of fabric that was curled up near the foot of the bed twitched, groaned, and fell still again. Undeterred, the clock continued its shrill protest, repeating its same harsh note with infinite patience.

_Beep._

_Beep._

_Beep._

"Mrrmph." The knot of blankets stirred again, this time falling away to reveal a tousled head, pale and bleary-eyed, with thick black hair mussed uncontrollably and sticking up in all directions. Blinking sleepily, the teenager underneath the covers leaned forward, hand outstretched towards the alarm clock, then overbalanced and fell forward onto the pillow. Stifling a yawn, he pushed himself back upright and dealt the clock a haphazard blow that almost knocked it to the floor. He rolled out of bed, stumbling across the bare floor, the fragments of a strange dream chasing themselves through his head.

He stood still in the middle of the shadowy room, squinting into the darkness, shivering, trying to drag forth the elusive memory, to push the dream to the forefront of his thoughts. It eluded him, drifting through his thoughts like smoke, like a handful of sand blown by a breath of wind – and no matter how he tried, it slipped always through his grasp like darkness itself. All he could remember was a wide bay, a distant tower, a sense of being small, an infinite landscape of snow – and, glaring eternally, elusive and looming, a lifeless, haunting mask.

Lost in the effort to recall his dream, wandering the twisted labyrinth of his own thoughts, he dressed mechanically, slipping out of his bedroom and into the dark hall beyond just as the first rays of sunlight crept in through the window. Silent as a wraith, he padded down the narrow hallway in his bare feet, carefully avoiding the rotting boards along the walls. He reached the stairs at the end of the hallway without a sound, and, stepping over the first and third steps, which creaked, descended into a cramped kitchen, a claustrophobic cavern of chipped blue tiles and spiderwebbed corners. Glancing briefly around at the decrepit room, he headed straight for the door that stood disguised between the refrigerator and the stove, slipping his feet into the first pair of shoes that got in his way, snatching up a black bookbag that slumped in the middle of the floor, and lifting a black jacket off its peg on the wall as he passed. Settling the faux leather over his shoulders, one hand on the doorknob, he paused, slipping his free hand into one pocket and running his fingers over the small scrap of cloth that he found there.

"Raphael?"

The voice was soft, low, the word ponderous, but Raphael jerked around, startled as if it had been a scream. His hand still clenched around the doorknob, he glanced over his shoulder, looking at the tall, broad-shouldered man who now stood framed in the doorway to the next room. He watched as the kind, craggy face distorted into a frown, the distant eyes focused on him as though from thousands of miles away.

With slow, hesitant steps, his father moved into the kitchen, not even glancing at the cracked and splintering tiles that groaned under his feet. "Have a good time at school, son," the big man said faintly, a grimace that was clearly meant as a smile disfiguring his face. Offering a faint smile in return, Raphael nodded, opening the door and escaping into the cold grasp of the gray morning.

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"Hey, Riff-Raff! How's it going?"

"Hey, Matt," Raphael replied absently, not even bothering to look up from his shoes as the other teenager bounded up behind him, falling into step beside him with a gentle smack to the back of the head. "What's new?"

"Nothin' much. Got a call from Samantha last night."

"What'd she want?"

Matt shrugged, kicking a pebble into the nearest gutter. Raphael barely managed to contain a smile at the look of uneasiness that suddenly passed over his friend's face. "She was just whining about the dance again. How disappointed she was that we wouldn't be able to go together."

Raphael couldn't contain his grin any longer. "What did you say?"

"That I didn't want her anywhere near me, especially not at the dance, and that her moving to Kentucky was the best thing that ever happened to me and that she should shut the hell up and find someone else to fawn over."

"And?"

Matt made a face. "You know how she is," he groaned, then raised his voice in imitation of a girl's, mocking Samantha in a nasally whine; "Oh, ha ha ha, you're so funny, Matthew, I love it when you joke around like that, because I'm too stupid to know you're serious. Oh, Matthew, I love you so much……."

Laughing, Raph punched Matt on the shoulder, watching as he stumbled backwards, tripped on the gutter, and ended up lying in the street, laughing. "She's been following you how long?" Raphael asked, grinning, as Matt stood up and brushed himself off.

"Third grade," the other boy groaned. "Since third grade. And even now, after she's been in Kentucky for _two freaking years_, she still calls me long-distance once a week. It's going to drive me crazy."

"You always said that the ladies loved you," Raph countered, grinning. "They just love you a little too much."

"Mmph." Looking around for some escape from the embarrassing conversation, Matt suddenly ran ahead, skidding around a corner to the safe haven of the high school. "See you at lunch," he called over his shoulder, almost drowned out by the bell that pealed out at the same time. "Mr. Duvall's got a chemistry test fifth period and I'll need your notes."

Raph waved his hand in agreement, and mounted the steps to the wide double doors, not bothering to answer. Something else had attracted his attention. With a slight start, he noticed that he had never let go of the scrap of cloth he still clenched in his pocket.

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"…….. and so, it is only by the bravery, skills, and luck of the early pioneers that the weak and newborn country that was America managed to greedily grasp the lands of the west coast from their rightful owners. Huzzah. There will be a test on this material Thursday, so I hope you've been taking notes……."

Raphael leaned one arm on his desk, resting his head against his hand, letting his eyes drift closed as the old, withered teacher's dull monotone droned in his ears. It seemed to fade in and out of focus, one minute crystal clear and sharp in his mind, the next reduced to a faint hum without distinguishable words. Yawning, he tried to fight the leaden pressure of exhaustion that seemed to have settled over him like a shroud, but it seemed that he had learned this same lesson at least once in every grade he had ever been in, and there was nothing the teacher could have said that would have induced him to stay awake.

"Psssst! Hey, Raph!"

The whisper was accompanied by a note that landed on desk, flipped through the air right in front of the teacher, whose half-lidded eyes had glazed over long ago. Barely stirring, he reached out and dragged it closer with the pencil he had been idly tapping against the desk. Unfolding it with a few deft strokes of the dull point, he revealed a few lines of flowery script written with a garishly pink pen.

_Hey, Raphael, will you go to the dance with me? I missed you this weekend._

_Love, _

_Rachel_

His pencil poised above the paper, Raphael considered, for a whole minute, saying no. Then, glancing over at a grinning Matt, who sat next to him and had undoubtedly read the note over his shoulder, he sighed. _Of course,_ he scrawled at the bottom. Then, a pause. _You already asked me that. _And, where her flourishing handwriting said that she missed him, _I saw you last night._

Refolding the note, he deftly flicked it back onto Matt's desk, who passed it along to the girl next to him. Eyes closed, Raph leaned back in his chair, counting the number of seconds it would take for a slip of paper to travel back four rows and over two. And, just on cue, the sleepy silence of the classroom was shattered by a gasp of indignation, followed by an offended snort that was only slightly quieter than a scream. And still the teacher plodded on.

With the barest hint of a self-satisfied smile hovering about his lips, Raph settled back into his chair, pointedly not looking behind him at the beautiful, heavily-lipsticked cheerleader glaring daggers at the back of his head. Rachel refused to tolerate anything but abject devotion; when she received less than a passionate letter declaring undying love, all Hell broke loose.

The bell rang with a piercing screech, kicking itself a hundred times and falling silent. Raphael stood up and headed for the door, inwardly bracing himself for the flames.

Matt caught up with him just outside the classroom, slipping through the teeming crowds that clogged the halls as only someone who has spent years in a high school can. "What were you thinking, Raph?" he shouted, barely making himself heard over the clamor of screeching and laughter that filled the air. "I saw what you wrote to Rachel. Man, is she gonna be _pissed_!"

"Well, that's her fault," Raphael snapped. "She expects me to throw my entire life away and spend every waking minute falling all over her!"

"She's worth it! I mean, have you _seen_ her? If she was my girlfriend I wouldn't be messing around whining about wanting my own life! I'd be –"

"What? Following her around on a leash?"

"If that's what it took!" Matt seemed to thrill with ecstasy at the very thought. His eyes glazed over, and he stared rapturously into space, snapping out of his daze only after he nearly tripped over one of the ninth graders that moved in clumps through the halls. "You're insane," he told Raphael firmly, as though stating the obvious. After a moment's thought he added, "And you're also dead. She's so gonna murder you."

"Well, I've survived being friends with you," he sniped back, the self-assured grin slowly emerging again on his face. "After that, I'm pretty sure I can handle just about anything."

"Sure, man, whatever you say," Matt muttered doubtfully. "Hey, what's going on over there?" Worming their way out of the pressing crowd in the hallways and into the cafeteria, they noticed a tight knot of people huddled in the center of the room.

"Come on, let's go check it out." Darting into the jostling group of people, Matt managed to squirm his way through to the center, where he found a bunch of people hunched over what looked like a newspaper clipping. "Hey, guys, what's going on?"

One of the crowd huddled over the paper turned around and waved at Matt. "Didn't you hear?" he asked excitedly. "Joe Ratner got sent to the insane asylum."

"What?" his burrow furrowing into a frown, Matt snatched the newspaper from the other's waving hand. "I knew Joe, he was in Chemistry with me. What happened?"

"No one knows," the other boy answered. "They found him wandering around the streets last night, crazy-looking and babbling, so they took him to a shrink. He's completely insane. Screams every time he's left in the dark. No one knows why."

"Let me see that." Coming up behind Matt, Raph snatched the paper away, holding it out so that they could both read. It had been cut from that morning's newspaper; only a few lines long, it reminded Raph more of an obituary than an article.

**Local Teen Sent to Asylum for Mentally Unstable**

_Last night, Joseph Ratner was found wandering around the docks by police officers. Completely incoherent, the officers only managed to discover his name before he collapsed. His parents were immediately notified, and a psychologist was called in to examine him. He was diagnosed with chronic claustrophobia and an extreme fear of darkness, possibly schizophrenia as well. This morning he was admitted into the Jump City Asylum for the Mentally Unstable, and is expected to remain there for several _

_years, if not for life._

"Woah." Matt shuddered, as though he had felt a sudden gust of cold wind. "That's just_ freaky._ I mean, I was just talking to him on Friday!"

"Freaky doesn't even begin to cover it," Raph said grimly, his fingers clenched convulsively around the paper's edge. "I mean, Joe was a little strange, sure, but he was never psychotic."

"Not like some of the freaks in this school. But then, you'd know all about that, wouldn't you, Raph?" Matt quipped, elbowing his friend in the side. Raph only shook his head, not even deigning to smile.

"Try and be serious for once in your life, idiot," said absently. "This isn't funny. How would you like it to happen to you?"

"I never thought what happened was funny," Matt grumbled, but he subsided. Grabbing the shoulder of the taller boy he had taken the article from, Raph handed the paper back.

"What else do you know about this?" He asked quickly. "Are there any rumors? Was he mugged, or what?"

"I'll tell you what I heard," the larger boy said anxiously, glancing around to make sure no one could overhear. "It's been all over the school," he murmured. "The rumor is that he wasn't found on the docks. The police on the docks heard his screaming and ran to find him. They picked him up….." he leaned over, almost whispering in ear, "..._at the Tower_."

"Holy crap!" Matt swore, standing at Raph's shoulder, listening to the entire conversation. "What was he doing down there? No one in their right mind goes down to the Tower! He _must've_ been psychotic!"

"You're telling me," the taller boy murmured. "The rumor is that the police are too scared to launch a full investigation. None of the detectives will go down there to see what might have caused it. The officers that picked him up were almost as scared shitless as he was by the time they got back to the station. That's what I've heard, anyway."

"Hey, you!"

The entire knot of people suddenly jerked around at the roaring shout, heads flying up, hands falling limply down, sentences stopped mid-word as a hulking monster of an assistant principal charged into the crowd, sending younger students scattering before him. The older ones put their hands in their pockets and sauntered casually away – no rumor, no matter how shocking, was worth detention with this particular teacher.

"Talk about crazy," Matt muttered resentfully, casting a sullen look over his shoulder at the walrus-like man who was bellowing at a trio of ninth graders. Raph, however, wasn't listening. He stared blankly at the pitted surface of the stained white tables, eyes narrowed until they were almost closed, trying with all his might to drag forth a memory that was lurking at the barest edge of his mind, a haze from long ago, a swirl of snow on dark water, a familiar and foreboding silhouette reaching up into the sky……

"Raph," Matt called, waving a hand in front of his friend's face. "Raph! Wake up, or I'll shove your face in the crap they're serving today."

His friend's insistent voice snapping him back to reality, Raph widened his eyes into a mask of horror. "I thought you were my friend!" he yelped. "Why're you trying to _kill _me?"

Matt opened his mouth to respond, only to find that his friend wasn't there anymore. Looking over Matt's shoulder, Raph had seen a terribly familiar blonde head advancing towards him through the crowd. Panic seized him, and he bolted towards the nearest exit – a door used only in emergencies, that led directly out to the parking lot and was always locked. Cowering against the wall in hope he wouldn't be seen, Raph watched with growing dread as the crowd thinned out, and Rachel's sickeningly sweet smile appeared, closing in fast.

"What are you _doing_?" Matt asked skeptically, watching his friend trying to disappear into the wall. "You look like a – oh." Turning around to see what Raph had been looking at, he had noticed Rachel coming ever closer. "Run, man," he muttered softly. "Run while you still can!"

"Too late," Raph murmured, and stood up again, straightening his jacket out of nervous habit. "She'll see me. I'm trapped."

"Trapped you are," Matt agreed jovially. "Jealous girlfriend at three' o'clock. Impact in three……two…..one….."

"Oh, Raphael, _darling_!" the shrill screech rang above the swell of chatter and sound that filled the room. A few nearby clumps of students turned around, sensing a scandal.

"Boom," Matt whispered, grinning. Raphael only glared at him, a look that clearly said _Not Helping._ "Hey, man, just doing my job," he murmured back, slipping away into the crowd with an ease Raph wished he could copy. Instead he was forced to stand, back nearly pressed against the wall, watching nervously as his girlfriend drew closer, smiling at him in a way that reminded him uncomfortably of a hungry shark. Finally Rachel broke free of the mulling crowd, some of whom turned to watch, eyes bright with interest.

"Hello, Raphael," she grinned haughtily, her expression far too hungry-looking for his liking. He could almost envision her licking her lips – as she continued to approach, long crimson nails clenched around the purse that seemed attached to her arm, he felt uncomfortably as though he was to be her next meal.

"I don't think you got my note in History," she purred, sidling up next to him until he could feel her breath on his face. "I _asked_ you if you wanted to go to the_ dance_ with me." She slipped her hand into his, her voice full of affection that barely masked a tone of malice. It was clear that her request was not a request at all – it was a threat.

"I already said that I did," Raph replied nervously, anxiously scanning the crowd for Matt, a teacher, anyone who could save him. No one appeared.

Rachel pouted, sticking out her lower lip and batting long, heavily-mascaraed eyelashes against his cheek. "You know," she murmured into his ear, "You aren't being a very good boyfriend. Don't you think you should treat your _darling_ and _loving_ girlfriend with a little more respect?"

Raph could feel sweat breaking out on his forehead as he hastily compared the two possible answers. "Um – y-yes?"

"Good choice." The crimson nails that had been digging into his hand withdrew, as Rachel dug into her purse, looking for something. Raphael breathed a sigh of relief as her attention turned away from him, focusing on the contents of the garishly pink bag. Pulling out a tube of lipstick, she expertly applied it without the use of a mirror, then stood on her toes and pressed a brief kiss to Raph's mouth. He stiffened again at the unexpected contact, but she didn't seem to care. Replacing the lipstick in her bag, she flounced away through the crowd, immediately collecting a crowd of girls who flocked around her, no doubt consoling her after her boyfriend's unacceptable behavior.

"How do you put up with her?"

Matt had reappeared from the crowd, suddenly coming into existence beside his friend. Watching Rachel walk away, he shook his head in disbelief. "I could never hang around with her. I'd always be afraid she was gonna stick a knife into my back or poison my food or something."

Raphael stared at him, thunderstruck. "A minute ago you said you were dying to be her boyfriend! You said you'd do anything to make her like you!"

Matt shrugged. "I'd forgotten what a bitch she can be," he said diffidently. "I'd watch your back if I were you. Why don't you break up with her?"

"Are you kidding?" Raph snorted. "She'd kill me. She is the absolute queen of the entire school. There isn't a single person who wouldn't die for her. She'd make my life a living hell if I even thought about doing something she wouldn't like. Until she gets tired of me, I'm trapped."

"That sucks." There was a pause. Then the wicked grin reappeared on Matt's face as he started walking away, stepping backwards so that he could look Raph in the face. "Well, at least there's still Danielle, right?"

"Yeah." Raph started to follow Matt away through the crowds out of habit, his nervousness disappearing, to be replaced by a dreamy smile. "Yeah, I guess you're right. There's still Dani."

"You're meeting her tonight, right?" A swarm of students passed between Matt and Raphael, separating them for a moment, until Raph managed to find his friend in the crowd.

"Yeah, I'm meeting her," he said absently, his eyes glazing over, apparently lost deep in his thoughts.

"Now _that's_ dangerous," Matt said solemnly, though the smile had not yet fully disappeared from his face. "Cheating on the Queen? You're really in for it, man."

Immediately Raphael's spine stiffened as though he had been insulted. "Cheating?" he demanded indignantly. "I'm not cheating!"

"Then what do you call it?" Matt asked, raising an eyebrow. "You're making out with another girl behind the back of your so-called official girlfriend. That's cheating, man."

"Rachel isn't my girlfriend!" Raph protested, "She's my _torturer_. I don't have anything with her, and she knows it. She know that I really like Dani, and –" he paused, a blush flaming its way across his cheeks, and stared down at his shoes. "As soon as Rachel moves on, Dani and I will be official," he said firmly. "Until then –"

"Until then you run the risk of having Rachel hunt you down for the rest of her life. Even if she is a conniving bitch, does she really deserve to have her boyfriend go behind her back?"

Raph clenched his teeth. "Well, no, but –"

"Where are you meeting Dani tonight?" Matt demanded. "It better be someplace where Rachel's goons won't find you. Where'd you decide?"

Raph glanced up sharply, his eyes suddenly narrowed in suspicion. "Why d'you wanna know? Are you gonna tell her?"

"Maaaybe –" dancing aside to avoid a blow aimed at his head, Matt cowered against a wall, holding up his hands to ward off his friend's rage. "Just kidding! Just kidding! Of course not! Come on, man, don't you trust me?"

Thrusting his hands into his pockets, Raphael hunched his shoulders, scowling at the ground and allowing himself to be swept down the hall in the thundering torrent of students. "At the docks," he called over his shoulder, "around nine-thirty. You'd better keep your mouth shut, moron, or what Rachel will do to me won't be anything compared to what I'll do to you!"

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Night fell swiftly and silently, the menacing gray of the sky fading and darkening into a more sinister hue, its darkness almost undetectable beyond the lights that burned in every window. It seemed as though the rays of the sun, instead of fading, had been absorbed into lightbulbs and lamps, fires and neon, until the garish brightness of the city had sucked all light from the world and brought on the night of its own accord.

On the pseudo-outskirts of the city, where the calm expanses of the bay had forcefully halted its growth, the immense office buildings and crammed-together stores of the city shrank, becoming old abandoned warehouses and derelict customs posts. There, no lights burned; every window was dark, shadows cast from the hunched shoulders of the buildings thrown down onto the street so that even the new-fallen snow failed to glitter in the moonlight. Only the wide waters, ruffled occasionally by a slight wind, gave any reflection, holding the image of the waning moon still in its rippling darkness, devoid of any stars.

Raphael leaned casually against the grimy, graffiti-covered wall of one of the crumbling warehouses, looking completely calm despite his inner turmoil. Kicking at the ground, watching in a kind of detached fascination as his sneakers sent storms of snowflakes flittering away, he kept a wary eye always on the little side street that led to the building he crouched in front of.

Behind him, raised in heart-wrenching glory in the midst of the bay's calm embrace, was the Tower, crumbling and decrepit yet standing every bit as majestically as in his dimmest memories. He knew without glancing around exactly what a terrifying sight it presented, it was so burned into his memory. He knew without looking the wide bank of windows that crowned its top, which was now cracked and shattered beyond repair, giving the appearance of gaping jaws; he knew the wide wound that was left by one of the top decks, which had fallen off years ago. He knew the wires and pipes that protruded at odd places through the walls, like the bones of some wounded animal punching through its skin. He knew that streams of sparks, hissing and spluttering their lives out on the snow, fell continuously in a golden waterfall from the electronic devices that hung from their cords out some window, like blood seeping from an open wound; he knew every crack, every hole, every gaping gash where the paint-and-plaster skin had been peeled away, leaving the darkness inside open to the elements.

Raking a hand through his hair, the outward sign of nervousness he allowed himself to show, he determinedly stared at the ground in front of him, refusing to look at the Tower that haunted the nightmares of the city.

The slight crunching of snow under someone's foot roused him from his reverie. Glancing up at the other end of the street, he watched in anticipation as a small shadow fell across the building next to him, following a short silhouette that advanced towards him down the alleyway.

"Dani?" he called hopefully, grinning as the figure broke into a run, and a small, fine-featured girl broke into a patch of light, long brown hair streaming behind her, and slammed into him, wrapping him in a bone-crunching hug. He returned the hug, feeling an ecstatic grin begin to emerge on his face as he breathed in her familiar scent. He opened his mouth to greet her, but before he could do more than draw in a breath she had captured his lips with hers, drawing him into a deep and passionate kiss.

The kiss lasted for an indefinite amount of time, what might have been years or only minutes. Finally, though, they broke apart, both smiling stupidly, Raphael's head reeling dizzily – though whether that was from the kiss or from lack of oxygen, he couldn't tell.

"It's good to see you again, too," he panted, reaching out and taking her hand. "How've you been?"

"Nothin' new," she grinned, suddenly sheepish. "I'm sorry about that – I just – I mean –"

"Don't worry about it." He leaned down and kissed her again, briefly, before pulling away. "I missed you, too. You have no idea what it's like being forced to follow Rachel around every minute of every day." His idiotic grin suddenly faded, his eyes widening as a sudden thought occurred to him. His expression suddenly grew troubled, a sense of unease entering into his mind.

"What is it?" Dani asked suspiciously, watching as he turned to cast a nervous glance over his shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." he shrugged away her concern, dismissing whatever was bothering him with a wave of his hand. The smile suddenly reappeared, dazzling her in the darkness. "Come on, let's go. We've got a lot of catching up to do."

Taking her by the hand, he led her around the corner of the building that had been sheltering them with its benevolent shadow. Slipping and sliding through mud and snow down to the docks, they walked hand-in-hand out to the tip of a crumbling pier, sitting down at the edge and letting their feet swing out over the wide emptiness of the bay rustling softly to itself below them.

"So?" he prompted, once they had found a comfortable place and were staring out over the moon-kissed waters. "How was the cruise? Did you have a good time?"

"It was wonderful," she sighed, leaning against his shoulder. "We flew all the way to the East Coast and left from the Baltimore harbor, and visited all kinds of places. Florida, the Bahamas, Mexico – everywhere. And the boat was so huge that I could stay away from my parents most of the time."

"Mmm-hmmm." Raphael only nodded, afraid to touch on a delicate subject. Glancing down at the top of Dani's head, he noticed a dark welt on her shoulder, where her shirt had slipped every so slightly. In the utter darkness of the winter night, it resembled a bloodstain on her pale skin – _Daddy's welcome-home present,_ he thought bitterly.

"Now you tell me what happened while I was gone," she said briskly, changing the subject. "Anything new in school? How's –" her voice turned suddenly bitter, and full of venom "—_Rachel_?"

"Well, there's certainly some new stuff that's happened," he said nervously. "Joe Ratner got put into the insane asylum yesterday – they found him babbling crazy down at the Tower. Rumor is –"

"I know all the rumors about the Tower. What else happened?" he shrugged and bit his lip, looking distinctly uncomfortable. Dani's voice turned sharp, thick with an anger that was extremely unlike her. "I asked you a question. Why are you so jittery tonight? Does it have to do with Miss Queen Bitch?"

"Actually, yes," he sighed, raking his hand through his hair in a nervous habit. "Listen, Dani, Rachel threatened and bullied me into going to the dance with her today."

"I know that," she said irritably. "We made plans, remember? We were going to sneak out the back at ten' o'clock, and –"

"That's not the problem," Raph sighed. "I told Matt about our meeting tonight –"

"I thought he already knew about us. Don't you trust him?"

"Yes, I trust him. He's my best friend, he wouldn't tell. But he said some things – and I've been thinking about it all day. It's been really hard, but I've made a decision." He paused, chewing on his bottom lip as though fighting a battle with himself. "Listen, Dani," he began tentatively. "You know how much I like you – and you know how much I love these meetings of ours. You know that I don't care how hard it is, I don't care about the risk that Rachel will find out about us and hound me about it. None of that matters. But Matt said some things, and –" he sighed, a heavy, world-weary breath, as though an immense weight was resting on his shoulders. "I can't do this anymore."

"What? Why?" Dani didn't look mad, as he had expected – he had prepared himself for an outburst of shouting, even a blow. He would not have been surprised if she had slapped him for what he had said. But instead she simply stayed where she was, squeezing his hand tightly, as though afraid to let go. "Do you like Rachel better? Is that it? I knew that I could never compete with someone like her. She has the money, the looks, the power –"

"No, no, no!" Raph interrupted, desperation in his voice, "No, you don't understand! That's not it at all! I hate Rachel, and I always will. But Matt asked me if she really deserved to be cheated on, and I started thinking about it, and I just can't go behind another girl's back, I can't no matter how much I hate her. Even Rachel doesn't deserve –"

"Yes, she _does_!" Dani snarled, now starting to get angry. "She of all people deserves it, the bitch! Do you know how much misery she's caused, how many people she's hurt? And you're still choosing her?"

"I'm not choosing anyone!" Raph cried, frustrated. "I just – we have to stop these secret meetings, okay? Just until Rachel breaks up with me. She'll get a new date after the dance, I'm sure of it. Two weeks, tops, and we'll be able to together for real. I just don't like cheating on her!"

"'Two weeks, tops'? Don't give me that crap," she snarled. Starting to get angry himself now, Raphael stood up, jerking his hand free of her grip and thrusting it into his pocket. Dani remained sitting, pulling her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. "You idiot, Raph," she muttered, "You're too damn honorable for your own good."

"Is that my fault?" He asked angrily. "That I'm honorable? That I don't like going behind the back of someone who likes me?"

Dani snorted. Raphael shrugged in defeat. "Okay, so she doesn't really like me. But still, I don't feel right, doing that to her. To anyone. You have to understand that."

Dani opened her mouth to reply, but before she could speak, the air was suddenly split by the shrieking wail of a police siren, announcing a patrol car that sped along the street they had come down, lights blazing, sending blackened flurries flying in all directions from under its squealing tires. Surprised by the sudden sight, Raph and Dani watched in silence as it gained speed, streaking down the street – then, instead of vanishing out of sight, it pulled to a screeching halt less than a block away, turning as it braked. Bewildered, Raph looked around anxiously for any kind of criminal it could be pursuing, perhaps a stolen car, anything – looking again at the police car, he noticed for the first time that it had stopped directly in front of the land bridge that cut a thin line of darkness through the bay to the base of the island that supported the Tower.

"Why's it blocking the bridge?" Dani asked softly, sounding faintly horrified. "Who would be crazy enough to try and go down there? If the tide comes in while they're crossing, the bridge'll go underwater and they'll drown. And the Tower –"

Raph motioned for her to be silent, scanning the streets for more cop cars, and when that failed glancing up at the rooftops, thinking to spot a burglar or one of the freakish-looking robbers that occasionally haunted Jump City, that were said to be capable of doing strange and impossible things. But no shadowy figure appeared jumping from roof to roof, and the surrounding streets remained absolutely silent –

Raph had been straining his ears, listening so closely for the most miniscule sound that he jumped, startled, as a splintering crash rang out through the night, the resounding metallic screech of a trash can being knocked over, smashing into one of the surrounding walls. Sucking in a sudden breath, Raphael almost missed the sound of frantic footfalls running towards him, quickly; as the echoes of the crash faded away, he could hear the staccato sound of ragged breathing, and muttered curses.

He crouched down next to Dani, pulling her close and breathing "Stay down," into her ear. "There's someone coming," he whispered, keeping a wary eye on the street as he spoke. "They shouldn't see us –"

The rest of his words were drowned out by an unearthly shrieking that pounded in his ears, making him jerk around in surprise as his hand clenched into Dani's arm. A trio of police cars sped around the corner, pursuing the dark shape that he could now see running past, something bright gleaming in its hand. Swearing under his breath, Dani next to him in terrified silence, he watched with visions of mass murderers racing through his mind as the dark figure raised its arm, revealing a knife that gleamed with a glittering smile in the moonlight.

He leapt to his feet as he saw the knife, a mix of irrational rage and blinding fear pounding through his veins, watching in shock as the dark silhouette stumbled, then regained its feet, managing to always stay just ahead of the pursuing police cars. Apparently trying not to run him over, two of the cars swung out to the sides, cutting off all routes of escape, until the only way left to run was straight ahead – right into the car already parked and waiting at the edge of the water.

With a feral yell, the figure reached the parked police car and, without a moment's hesitation, scrambled over the hood, crashing into the officer that had climbed out of the car and tried to block his way. Slamming his fist into the bigger man's face, the dark figure managed to clear the car, and raced away down the landbridge towards the leaning shadow of the Tower in the distance.

Another pair of squad cars suddenly screeched onto the scene from another direction, trailing a dark crowd that rustled and seethed with curiousity. Pulling up to the edge of the water, the newcomers repositioned themselves so that the blazing spotlights fixed to their hoods pointed right at the running silhouette; then, at an unspoken signal, both lights blazed to life, flooding the night with dazzling illumination.

"Come on," Raph hissed, standing and grabbing Dani by the hand, pulling her up towards the docks, clambering up the bank and back onto the street, squeezing between the two parked patrol cars. She resisted for a moment, plainly frightened, but eventually gave in to his insistent pulling and followed him up to where the crowd mingled and murmured to itself with excitement.

Reaching the fringe of the mob, Raphael reached out and grabbed the shoulder of the first person he came to, a tall boy who looked to be only a year older than him. "What's going on?" Raph demanded. "Who is that? What'd he do? Why are they chasing him?"

"I don't know," the other answered, barely bothering to look at him. "There's all kinds of crazy rumors going around. All I know is that I saw him run out of the loony bin, screaming about his brother and cursing the police. I followed him to make sure he didn't hurt himself, or anyone else. I figured that if he did I could at least call the cops. But they showed up after a couple minutes, and chased him straight here."

Raph turned to look again at the bridge, watching as the police spotlights finally managed to pinpoint the running silhouette. The dark figure suddenly dissolved into a young boy – by his size, he could not have been older than eleven, small and pale, with a shock of blond hair hanging down into his eyes, waving a blunted kitchen knife in a threatening gesture at the officers on the shore.

Blinded by the lights suddenly trained on him, the fugitive stopped, blinking against the dazzling radiance. Raph saw one of the police officers get out of his car, clutching a megaphone, followed by a weeping woman, her hair disheveled, makeup distorted and smeared by her tears.

"Michael," the officer called, lifting the megaphone to his mouth. "Michael, can you hear me? Come back. We aren't going to hurt you." He spoke in a low, soothing voice, as though trying to calm a spooked animal. "Michael, can you hear me?"

The small boy clapped his hands to the sides of his head, as though desperate to block out the officer's voice. "Don't talk to me!" he screeched. "Don't talk to me, you son of a bitch!"

"Michael, you need to come back," the officer continued, his low voice echoing and re-echoing off of the water. "You might get hurt. We only want to help you."

"You didn't help my brother!" the boy screamed, apparently enraged by this. "My brother went crazy and you didn't do anything to help! You didn't try to find out who did it to him! You were too scared!" He lifted his kitchen knife, waving it aloft, screeching at the mob on the shore. "Well, I'm not scared! I'm going to find out who did it to him, and I'm gonna make them pay!"

"Michael Ratner," the policeman said calmly, but the young boy had turned, running onwards into the shadowy Tower, beyond the range of the lights.

Silence fell with shocking speed over the crowd, even the sirens on the police cars stopping mid-wail as the entire crowd held its breath, waiting, watching –

Suddenly, with a flash of darkness that somehow seemed to come alive, darting across the bay faster than the eye could follow, the two spotlights that had been trained on the Tower went dark, the lenses cracked and bulbs within them shattered. Sparking and hissing, they snapped from their moorings, toppling forwards, denting the hoods of the cars they were mounted on. There was a brief shriek as people leaped aside to avoid being crushed; then silence fell again.

Raphael shifted restlessly, Dani's hand tight as a vice around his. "What are they doing?" he whispered, agitated. "Why don't they go in after him? He could be –"

He was suddenly silenced as, welling up from the darkness all around them, the silence was broken by a scream. Beginning as a low, throbbing moan, it rose higher and higher, growing louder with each passing moment, until it became a glass-shattering high-pitched shriek that could only be torn from the throat of a terrified child. It seemed to last for an eternity, on and on, until it seemed to Raph that his ears were bleeding, his heart imploding, the world shaking to pieces all around him –

Then it was gone, not fading away, but silenced, cut off abruptly with the suddenness of a knife being drawn across a child's throat.

There was silence.

After what might have been a moment, or an eternity, of staring at the glittering water and the Tower that remained completely and utterly still, the crowd breathed out the collective breath that it had been holding, and the silence gave way to shocked, terrified whispering, the woman who had gotten out of the police car letting loose a wail that echoed eerily like the child's shriek of a few moments before. Raph remained frozen; he could see Dani out of the corner of his eye, her free hand clamped over her mouth in horror, tears trickling down her face. He could not spare a moment of sympathy to comfort her – he felt tight bands of pressure around his chest, felt as though his heart was being compressed, his brain squeezed, lifetimes forced into the span of a single moment –

"No!" he shouted, desperate to release some of the pressure that he could feel building inside him. "No!" he roared at the police, who were climbing back into their cars, one of them with his arm around the woman's shoulders. "No!" he bellowed at the crowd, who began to disperse, conversing with each other in low, horrified tones. "No, you can't leave! He might still be alive! You have to do something!"

No one bothered to so much as glance at him. He felt his hands clenched into fists, images of the boy's small form, his wide eyes, his pale face contorted into a mask of hatred and fear – the scream was still echoing in his ears, in his brain, growing louder with each passing moment –

The police car that had been blocking the landbridge revved its engine, rumbling to itself as it pulled a little distance away and started off down the street. Feeling himself filled with a sort of insane fury, Raphael darted forward, Dani's cries ringing in his deaf ears, slipping past the police car's tailpipe, racing down the bridge where the little boy had run only moments before.

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Ha ha, another cliffhanger! What will Raph discover in the bowels of the terrifying Tower? What will become of crazy little Michael? Why, oh why, can't the authoress get a life? Tune in next week to find out!

P.S. 'The End' part III was awesome! That hug, if you don't mind my saying so, was a victory for Rob/Rae shippers everywhere, and little Raven is so cute!


End file.
